


A Lesson in Selfishness

by bizzybee



Series: Requests [8]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cooking, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzybee/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: “Right.” Hilda puts a hand on Annette's shoulder, turning towards her. "We're not making those disgusting skewers.""We're not?""Annette," Hilda tightens her grip. "You beautiful, wonderful, selfless little sweetheart. What doyouwant to cook?"
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Series: Requests [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835620
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	A Lesson in Selfishness

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by Cat! Thanks for commissioning!

"Ugh," Hilda complains. "Kitchen duty?" 

She'd thought that her years of chores were behind her, once the war had started. There have been few enough expectations of her the last five years, and she has half a mind to turn around and head back.

“Kitchen duty!” 

Hilda turns. She recognizes that voice. 

“Hilda!” Annette calls. “We’re together for kitchen duty!” 

Hilda silently curses the goddess.

* * *

It’s not that Hilda doesn’t love Annette, really. 

They became fast friends at the Academy, even if Annette’s tendency to be unendingly selfless crosses the line from endearing to frustrating. 

Hilda remembers clear as day the first time Annette visited her room, back when they were both students. She hadn’t understood just why nobody enjoys completing chores with Annette until she’d nearly set fire to her dormitory. 

Needless to say, she understands now. 

She hopes that five years of war have added to Annette's nonexistent grace. 

Her hopes are immediately, tragically dashed when Annette trips over her own feet, knocking a pile of reports off of one of the desks as she exits the classroom.

* * *

"Okay!" Annette says. Hilda watches her from where she's sitting up on one of the kitchen countertops, hair pulled back. "Okay." 

"Okay what?"

Annette turns, eyes bright. "I know what we can make." 

"Well, trust me, I'm all ears." Hilda kicks her ankles in the open air. "You're the boss for this one, Annie."

"Great!" says Annette, and she turns back to the pantry. "Great, Great great great." 

"You're muttering again," Hilda calls out. 

"Not helpful!" 

"Never said I was trying to be." Hilda chews on her thumbnail for a bit before hopping off the counter. She peeks over Annette's shoulder and into the pantry. "Whatcha wanna make?"

"Pickled rabbit skewers?" Annette says it like a question. 

"Gross," says Hilda. "Does anyone even like those?" 

"Yeah," Annette says glumly. "I guess." 

Now here's a fact about Hilda: she hates pickled rabbit skewers. 

Here's another fact about Hilda: she loves Annette. 

With a hand at the small of her back, Hilda steps to the side, peering into the pantry. "Annette," she coos, voice sugar sweet. "Do you remember when we were back in school? What did I tell you about being more selfish?”

“To do it.” Annette sounds so miserable, Hilda nearly laughs. 

“Right.” Hilda puts a hand on Annette's shoulder, turning towards her. "We're not making those disgusting skewers." 

"We're not?" 

"Annette," Hilda tightens her grip. "You beautiful, wonderful, selfless little sweetheart. What do _you_ want to cook?" 

Annette bites her lip, brow furrowed. 

Cute, Hilda thinks. 

“We do have the ingredients for peach sorbet,” Annette says finally.

“Great,” Hilda says, and gives Annette’s shoulder a squeeze before letting her hand drop. “Then we’re making peach sorbet.”

“For dinner?” 

“Who gives a shit? We’re in the middle of a war.” 

“Alright,” Annette concedes. “Peach sorbet!” 

“Sounds great,” Hilda says. She gives a small yawn behind her hand, backing away. “You can go ahead and get out the ingredients, I’ll get the processor started, ‘kay?”

She moves out of Annette’s way before she can respond.

“Right!” Annette chirps, and pulls her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. “I’ll just, um, get the peaches, and the cream, and the sugar and spices and everything.” 

“Yep,” Hilda chirps. She pulls out the processor, and sets it on the counter. Done. She hops back up onto the counter next to it, leaning against the wall and watching Annette as she bustles around the kitchen. 

Annette is able to retrieve the peaches and cream without issue, and stacks them on the counter next to Hilda. 

“I got this,” Annette mutters under her breath, wringing her hands in front of her. “I can do this.” 

"Yeah you can," Hilda cheers, not entirely paying attention. 

She absentmindedly listens to Annette as she searches for the spices she needs, letting out _hm_ 's and _ha_ 's whenever there's a lull in her chatter. 

But while Hilda may seem disinterested, she can't help but feel a note of something she can't name settling in her chest. So much has changed in the last five years; so many friends either living or dead. 

Throughout it all, though, Annette is largely herself. Sure, she’s stronger, now. Somehow both less and more sure of herself. Hair longer, voice higher. Still, though, she carries her effortless optimism like a veil. Hope worms its way into Hilda’s heart at the thought of it; hope that the world hasn’t become entirely unrecognizable.

“Graagh!” 

Hilda snaps out of her thoughts in an instant, only to see Annette climbing the shelfs of the pantry, nearly losing her balance as she reaches for the cinnamon on the top row. 

“Annette,” Hilda calls. “You good?”

“Almost…” Annette says, two shelves up. 

“Are you gonna fall?” continues Hilda. “Because I’m definitely not strong enough to catch you. Or quick enough.” 

“Trying… to… concentrate!” Annette grits out.

“Really? Goddess, is my talking distracting you? I really don’t mean it to be-”

Annette hops off. “Hilda!”

“Yeah?”

"You're definitely doing this on purpose." 

Hilda grins. "Yeah." 

Annette frowns and stomps her foot, and Hilda's glad that that hasn't changed, either. 

She hops off of the counter. "Come on, Annette. You know you'll knock the entire room down if I let you climb the shelves." She enters the pantry. "Let me grab it."

"Aren't you shorter than me?" 

"Yup," Hilda flicks her ponytail over her shoulder. "You're cuter, though."

She doesn't wait for Annette to answer before climbing up to the first shelf, bracing herself against the third. "They really gotta stop putting all the stuff we need on the top shelf when we're the shortest people at the Monastery." 

She climbs onto the second shelf and stretches. "Ugh. You're right, this is way too far back." 

"Careful," Annette warns. 

"You know me," Hilda says. "I never take any risks." 

"It's looking pretty wobbly…"

"Trust me, Annette," she throws a wink over her shoulder, "Little ol' me's gonna be just fine."

Only then, Hilda steps onto the third shelf. 

The first crack, and Hilda hesitates. 

"Um," Annette says. 

The second crack, and Hilda hops down, grabbing Annette's arm. 

"Hilda?" asks Annette. 

The third crack, and the top shelf starts to tilt. 

"Oh sh-" 

Hilda's cut off as the top shelf, filled with jars of spices, tumbles to the ground with a crash. 

For a moment, all Hilda can see is a cloud of dust, swirling red and white and green and brown in the air around them. It mingles with Annette's coughs and Hilda's sneezing, and settles to the ground slowly. 

"Dear Goddess," Annette says, and Hilda can barely see her underneath the layer of sugar, flour, and other spices. 

"Oopsie." Hilda shrugs, then coughs. She dusts at her skirt, frowning. "My bad?" 

Annette winces, wiping at her eyes. "Eugh." 

"I mean, on the bright side," Hilda says, and gestures at the rest of the pantry. "It didn't start a chain reaction, I guess?"

At her words, the shelves creak. 

They freeze, staring at each other. 

“I think…” Hilda pauses, then straightens. “Okay, yeah, we’re good.” 

Annette sighs in relief. She pulls her hair out of its ponytail, sending another cloud of powder into the air. 

Hilda sneezes. 

“HIlda…” Annette trails off. 

Hilda cringes. “Yeah?” 

To her surprise, Annette laughs. 

It’s in that moment that HIlda realizes, of all the things that have stayed the same, and all the things that have changed, she’d never heard Annette’s laugh before. 

It definitely shouldn’t be a cute laugh, Hilda thinks. It’s full of snorts and high-pitched giggles and tears, but above anything, it’s _Annette._

“Sorry,” Annette says, and takes a deep breath, flapping her hands in front of her face. “Goddess.” 

“You good there?” Hilda asks, but Annette’s laugh is contagious, and a slow grin is spreading across her face. 

“I’m great,” Annette says, still giggling. “All I could think was that,” she snorts, “at least it wasn’t me who wrecked everything this time.” 

And just like that, Hilda is laughing, too. 

“Goddess,” Hilda says. “The Professor’s gonna kill me.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Annette says. She reaches over, brushing flour off of Hilda’s shoulder. “I’ve caused so many fires, a little bit of spilled spices doesn’t mean anything.” 

Hilda considers this. “Yeah, fair. You Faerghans don’t know how to use spices, anyway. Only people that are gonna notice are Dedue and probably Ashe.”

Annette giggles again, and reaches forward, brushing powder out of Hilda’s hair. “Goddess, you’re covered.” 

“Says you,” Hilda says. “You should see yourself.” 

“Ugh, I hope it’s just my dress,” Annette says. “I’m gonna be cleaning cinnamon out of my hair for ages.” 

“It’s not just your dress,” Hilda says, and steps forward. She swipes a thumb across Annette’s cheek, showing her the red powder there. 

“Damn,” Annette says. 

Hilda licks off her thumb. “Mm. Paprika.” 

“Is it?” Annette asks, eyes wide. 

“Definitely.” Hilda hums, smacking her lips. “Hint of cardamon.” 

“Let me try,” Annette says. She touches Hilda’s chin gently, holding her fingers to her lips. 

“And?” 

“Dunno.” Annette wrinkles her brow. “Um, licorice maybe?” 

“Can I taste?” 

“Taste? Like… your face?”

Hilda rolls her eyes. “Annette. I mean, like, kiss you.” She twirls her ponytail around one finger. “I mean, if you want.”

Annette’s cheeks color, even beneath the shower of sweet-flavored dust. “Yes,” she says, and steps closer. “I think I’d like that.” 

Hilda wraps her arms around Annette’s waist, and for once, she doesn’t care about how long it’ll take to clean this all up. 

Annette was right, Hilda thinks. 

It _is_ licorice.

**Author's Note:**

> [Thanks for reading!](https://bizzybee.carrd.co/)


End file.
